


Some things are best left unsaid

by PeppermintHill



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Bed & Breakfast, First Meetings, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28488666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppermintHill/pseuds/PeppermintHill
Summary: After leaving the Amish farm, David encounters a man named Patrick Brewer at a local Bed and Breakfast.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Some things are best left unsaid

David had hoped he could stay with the Amish family for a few more days. While he didn’t appreciate the early morning hours, he could certainly get behind the big family dinners. But now he found himself standing in front of a horse pulled buggy watching his luggage being loaded into the back. He shuddered at the thought of his luggage smelling like a horse.  
Thank goodness he had used some old, brown bags he found in his mother’s closet instead of his own designer bags which were in storage.

“Are you sure I have to go?” David looked hopefully at the Amish couple. He fiddled with his shirt collar and looked up at the sky. “It’s just that I am going through something right now and I really think I could use some fresh air and home cooking.”

The only response he got was a forceful shove on the shoulder as his last bag was tossed into the buggy.

“Oh, ok, then… I guess I’ll just climb in the back, right here.” David gave one last look around as he climbed into the back of the buggy. Staying at the Amish farm had been his last hope. He had no money, no phone charger and was dangerously low on his skin cream. He pondered what options he had left as the buggy rambled along the back roads. He tried to distract himself from the discomfort of the hard seat by studying the passing farms and houses. It seemed that everything he saw, though very different from the kind of lifestyle he was used to, reminded him of what was missing in his life. The grazing cows reminded him of the organic body milk he used to buy at his favorite day spa in New York. The small child who was pulling a goat reminded him of the goat milk cheese that was served at his favorite 4 star restaurant. The way the sun was reflecting off the ponds reminded him of the artwork that used to hang in his gallery. As the buggy took him farther away from the Amish farm and farther into the unknown place that would be the start of his future by himself, he felt the familiar sensations of a panic attack starting. He began his slow breathing techniques and wished he could remember what Ted had said to do in these situations. Just as he was really starting to freak out, the buggy came to a stop. 

David cautiously looked out the buggy door to see several buildings including a small general store, an old home that had been converted into a public library, and a cafe similar to the Cafe Tropical. He got out and turned around several times to take it all in. It was a quaint little town, not unlike Schitt’s Creek, but slightly bigger. He noticed the hardware store called Jim and Sons Hardware. Next to it was a gas station. Turning all the way around, he noticed that he was standing on the sidewalk in front of an older home that reminded him of the cottage from the movie The Holiday. In front of the house was a hanging sign that rocked slowly back and forth in the gentle breeze. He had to squint to read the delicately drawn words on the sign that read Elmwood Bed and Breakfast.

He spun around again to see that his bags had all been placed on the ground next to his feet, the Amish couple gone. He could hear the horses footsteps fade into the distance as he stood frozen in his place, not sure what to do next.

“Excuse me. Do you mind? Your bags are blocking the sidewalk.” David startled at the strangers' words. He wondered how long he had been standing there, how he had not noticed a car pull up and a man get out. He gave an apologetic look and bent to pick up his bags. Throwing one over his shoulder, one under his arm and another in his hand, he followed the man up the sidewalk to the front door of the Bed and Breakfast. He had no plan for what to do once inside, what with no money or form of payment, but he felt compelled to follow this man. He noticed the stranger’s sensible luggage. Samsonite, on wheels with an extendable handle. He noticed that the wheels swiveled easily as the man pulled the luggage up the brick walk. David, on the other hand, felt like a pack mule, weighed down by bags that caused him to sway side to side as he walked.

When the stranger opened the door, he turned to see David struggling with the bag that kept slipping off of his shoulder. He held the door open for David, who slipped through rather ungracefully. David nodded slightly to the man and lowered his head as he whispered a thank you. 

Once inside, David dropped his bags in a pile on the floor, relieved to have the weight off his body. He took in his surroundings and was immediately in love with the place. He felt like he had walked onto a set of a Hallmark Christmas movie. The room was decorated with antique furniture, a beautifully upholstered couch and two wingback chairs next to a fireplace. David waited while the stranger checked in with the lady at the front desk. He was sure that the other man had made a reservation. He looked like the type that would have researched the bed and breakfast on the internet before coming. He probably had a business convention nearby. Or maybe, he was planning a romantic getaway and was going to bring his wife here later as a surprise. 

In the small lobby, he couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between the stranger and the lady behind the counter. Something about her reminded him of Twyla. She was slender with long brown hair and a sweet smile that could make anyone feel welcome. She was pretty, though not as pretty as Twyla. Her eyes sparkled as she talked to the stranger.

His name was Patrick. He looked like a Patrick with his brown, short cut hair that curled slightly where it was longer on top. It was a sensible name. He was staying in a room with a queen size bed. Yes, he was probably expecting his girlfriend to join him. David noticed the lack of jewelry on his ring finger. He was staying for two nights before heading down to Elm Tree Grove for a family reunion. He was quite chatty with the girl behind the desk, making small talk. David wondered if Patrick’s girlfriend would approve of this flirting. David, himself, did not care for small talk. In fact, he tried very hard not to connect with people. 

David started to get antsy as the small talk turned to Patrick’s cousins who are more like siblings. He began to rock back and forth, scrunching his eyes shut while nodding his head slightly. It was something he did when he was anxious. And he had plenty of reason to be anxious. He had no idea what he would say to the lady behind the counter. He could drop some names of former friends and try to convince her to let him stay for free as he was practically famous himself. He could try to flirt his way into a free room but that idea seemed doomed for failure. He wondered what Alexis would do in this situation. Surely she would not only be able to stay the night, but would be given the President’s suite. 

He was searching his mind desperately for a plan when he became very aware of the quietness that had taken over the room. He opened his eyes to see both Patrick and the Twyla-like lady staring at him, as if they were waiting for an answer to some unknown question.  
David cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?” Patrick’s warm brown eyes smiled as he stepped aside and said “I’m sorry that I took so long. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” If David wasn’t mistaken, Patrick winked at him as he passed by.

“No worries.” David managed to get out as he stepped past Patrick and up to the counter. Patrick put his room key in his pocket and then stopped to look at some local sightseeing brochures displayed next to the counter. David turned his attention to the woman behind the counter. 

“Do you have a reservation?” The Twyla-like woman asked. David cleared his throat again and tugged at his collar. A fake, nervous laugh rolled out of his mouth. “Well, actually….” he began, “no. But, I am interested in a room.”

“I’m so sorry,” Said the woman sweetly. “We’ve been booked for months. You see, the Sweet Plum Festival is this weekend and you know how busy that is.”

“Of course.” David nodded and squinted his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears that he felt welling up. “Thank you.”

He turned and bent to pick up the biggest of his bags and swung it over his shoulder, barely missing a nearby floor lamp in the process. He then bent to pick up his second bag but as he did, the first bag slid off his shoulder just missing the lamp again. He pushed it back up on his shoulder and began to reach for the third bag. As he leaned down, the bag slipped from his shoulder again causing him to lose his balance. He stumbled forward hitting his leg on one of the antique end tables and cursed quietly. He managed to steady the table before any of the it’s contents fell to the floor. Regaining his composure, he swooped the bags into his arms clutching them all in front of his chest. He was barely able to see over the mound of bags in his arms, but when he turned around, he saw Patrick staring at him. 

Patrick had a look as though he was suppressing a laugh. He had his head tilted slightly down and looked up at David as his smile spread to one side. David, embarrassed and frustrated, shifted the weight in his arms and headed toward the door. He attempted to free one hand in order to access the door handle but each time he did so he came dangerously close to dropping everything and knocking over another floor lamp. After several feeble attempts, he turned to see that Patrick was still watching him. He had a hand to his mouth and was definitely holding back a laugh. 

“Oh. My. God. I am struggling right now and you are laughing at me? I am homeless. Homeless! I’m like Halle Berry in her early twenties!”

Patrick leaned back against the counter, still smiling. “You don’t look homeless. Isn’t that like a $200 sweater?”

“Um. It’s $500 dollars and it was a gift from Harry Styles so it doesn’t count.” David still stood, uncomfortably holding the large luggage against his chest. “And I am homeless. I have no home. No New York apartment. No London flat. No Italian villa. Nothing. I have nowhere to go.” He turned and attempted to free his hand again to open the door and then swung around in frustration. “Could you give me a hand, please!”

Patrick stepped forward and took the top bag, relieving David of the majority of the weight in his hands. He swung the bag over his own shoulder and stared at David with a look mixed between curiosity and pity.

“Soooo, what’s your plan then? Do you have someone to call?” Patrick asked hesitantly.

David blurted out “No! I left my phone charger at the motel. Alexis didn’t return my texts. Stevie hates me. The Amish family doesn’t have a phone and Roland probably has the police out looking for me!”

“Okay… I don’t know who any of those people are but it sounds like you could use some help.” Patrick turned to the Twyla-like lady. Tammy. David could make out the name on her badge. “Are you sure you don’t have any rooms available? Or do you know of somewhere local he could stay?”

Tammy shook her head. “No. Everywhere is booked for the Sweet Plum Festival. My mom even rented her spare room out. Although the guest said she would only need it in the afternoons which I think is weird.” She really did remind David of Twyla.

David’s shoulders dropped but Patrick said, “Well, it looks like you’ll be bunking with me tonight.”

“Oh no. No. No. No. I can’t. Your girlfriend probably wouldn’t like that.” David stepped backwards toward the door as he talked.

“No. No girlfriend.” Patrick looked at him with increased curiosity.

“Your wife, then. I can’t. Besides, my hair does not do well after sleeping on the floor.” David kept shaking his head quickly.

“No. No wife either. It’s just me.” And then he added, with a smirk, “And you need a place to stay. We can’t have you sleeping on the streets in a $400 sweater.” 

“Five hundred”, David whispered under his breath.

“I’m sure we can find a way to protect your hair. I’m Patrick.” He extended his hand.

“David. David Rose.” David returned the handshake, shifting the weight of the luggage as he did so.   
“Ok. David Rose. Come with me. We’ll figure something out.” Patrick turned, grabbed the handle of his own luggage and headed toward the hallway with David’s bag still over his shoulder.

David followed, looking back over his shoulder at the now empty lobby and whispering “What the hell?”

Patrick opened the door to a medium sized room. On the right side was an antique style bed blanketed in a quilt covered in small pink and red flowers. A fireplace was against the other wall across from the bed. There was a quilt chest at the foot of the bed upon which Patrick set down David’s bag. Instead of a closet, there was an antique wardrobe with elaborate carvings in the tall wooden doors. David took it all in. It was hideous and beautiful at the same time. The artificial flowers in a vase on the table were incorrect but somehow they worked in this environment. He set his bags down and walked over to the long antique dresser. He fingered the small lace doily on it and found that he was not repulsed by it as he thought he would be. As Alexis would say, this place was cute, in a way.

He turned back to face Patrick, holding his breath. “Thank you.” He whispered, barely audibly. 

Patrick just raised his eyebrows and nodded. He unzipped his suitcase and started rummaging through it. Once he had retrieved his toothbrush and toothpaste, he headed to the door. “I’m going to get ready for bed. I’ve been driving all day and I’m beat. The bathroom is a shared one, down the hall.” He stood in the doorway with his hand on the door knob. “Door open or closed?”

“Oh. Closed, I think.” David muttered while looking around the room. He walked over to the bed and began to take off the multiple pillows. Some were embroidered with small flowers. One had a small owl on it. He grabbed one of the large pillows with a ruffled sham as well. He laid them on the floor trying his best to make a comfortable bed. He then opened the doors of the wardrobe, hoping to find extra sheets or blankets. With no luck there, he opened the quilt chest and found it empty. “What the fuck…” He stood with his hands on his hips looking around the room. He decided to take the flowered quilt, leaving Patrick with a sheet and cotton blanket.

Once Patrick returned to the room, David slipped out to the hallway, bag in hand, ready to start his night time routine. He walked down the short hallway until he found the small bathroom. He was only half way through his 9 step regimen when someone was knocking on the door. He hurried his process, stepped out into the hallway, smiled at the middle aged man who was waiting for the bathroom and headed down the hallway to the bedroom he now shared with a strange man named Patrick.


End file.
